Chapter 7 Charlie
Charlie
His silence is an answer all on its own.
Dillon’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out, his expression bewildered and lost. Several seconds pass, and then his teeth clack together, head turning to the side, hiding his eyes from us.
From me.
“Oh.” I exhale the word out in a short burst, like something has just been shoved into my chest, forcing all the air out of my lungs. “How long?”
Barrett’s chest moves under my ear when he grunts out a frustrated noise. “Don’t, Charlie. We don’t need to hash this out now. I think the two of you”—he tries to incinerate Dillon with a glare—“have said enough. Don’t you think?”
I nod, but then shake my head. “I think I need to know,” I confess weakly.
“We’ve been together for a long time now, and he hung out with Marisa all the time.
I didn’t mind because who was I to talk, right?
I had you.” I crane my neck back, meeting Barrett’s eyes, both of us acting as if Dillon isn’t standing right there, defeat scrawled across his face.
“But if I was a placeholder while he waited for her to break up with her latest boyfriend? I need to know.”
“No, Angel,” Dillon cuts in desperately. “You know me. I wouldn’t have been with you if it was like that. I never would’ve asked you to move in with me.”
I shoot him a scornful look before focusing on Barrett. “Pretty sure we’ve already proved how little we actually know each other. What if he didn’t wait, either? If Dillon had feelings for her and didn’t tell me, what if he took it further? I can’t trust anything he says now.”
“So what does letting him explain do for you?” Barrett pointed out logically. “If you can’t trust him, it doesn’t matter what he says.”
I frown because he’s making a good point, but I’ve already dug my heels in, and I’m not ready to pivot. I need Dillon to confirm that everything was a lie. Maybe then his poisonous words will stop spinning around and around in my head.
…You’re nothing to everyone.
Barrett watches me, seeing the stubborn jut of my jaw, and rolls his eyes. I pull out of his arms, needing to do this on my own, and face Dillon. He’s pale and sweaty, looking like he’s seconds from passing out.
“Are you okay?” A side glance at Barrett.
“How hard did you hit him? Do you think he needs a doctor?” Dillon’s not gushing blood anymore, but his nose and eyes are already swelling.
He’s not looking pretty, and it’ll look even worse tomorrow.
“Hm, you might be right. Maybe we should do this another time.”
“No! For fuck’s sake—” Dillon clamps his lips shut when Barrett rumbles out a growl.
He inhales deeply—several times, and through his mouth, because his nose is completely out of action.
He looks at me, his eyes full of anguish and desperation.
“I did not lie to you about anything. I love you, and I’ll make this right. ”
“We’ve already been over this.” My frown deepens, and I fret, “Maybe you should go to the hospital.”
Dillon’s expression grows agitated, his hands flying around his head as he exclaims, “Just let me—Just stop…Fuck!”
“Ease off, man,” Barrett grunts, but there’s the slightest twitch to his mouth, enjoying Dillon’s meltdown. “She didn’t do any-fucking-thing wrong here, so you will talk to her with respect.”
Dillon’s glare is all fire and brimstone, but my friend is wholly unaffected. He eyes him like a cockroach he’d love to squish. I bite back an inappropriate smile, knowing it’ll only make the situation worse.
That smidge of amusement burns to ash, my expression falling as reality crashes back in with the harsh reminder that my relationship is effectively in the toilet, being flushed away as I watch.
Dillon has turned back to me, and I sigh, waiting for whatever else he needs to say.
He sees it and scowls, the movement of his face making him flinch in pain.
“I liked Marisa,” he says slowly, emphasizing the past tense, “back in college. I thought she—” He looks away, seeming frustrated.
“It doesn’t matter. I had a stupid crush, and she never felt the same.
But that was years ago. Bliss doesn’t know everything, and for good reason.
There have been plenty of times over the years when Marisa and I were both single, and maybe…
” Dillon looks at me, his expression earnest, begging me to believe him.
“Maybe at one point, we considered getting together, but it became clear to both of us that we didn’t have chemistry in that way, and we were just better off as friends. ”
I nod my head, calmly processing that. “Okay. Did you sleep with her?” He goes still at the question, his eyes flaring wide. I tilt my head, watching him. “While you were considering getting together, did you fuck her?”
Dillon flinches at the language. “Please,” he begs quietly. “Please, Charlie, don’t do this.”
“It’s just that…I’ve never slept with Barrett.” My tone is almost conversational, but there’s no hiding the edge under it. “I’ve never had a crush on him, because, you know, he’s big and smelly and gross. Once you’ve seen someone pick their nose, that kinda kills any hint of romance.”
“One fucking time,” Barrett mutters.
“So, when you say you and Marisa were considering… Such an interesting word, don’t you think?
Considering. It just makes me wonder, I guess.
” I shrug, the movement too stiff to be casual.
“It makes me think about things like…How far did you go when you were considering being with her? It makes me wonder because, if you took it as far as I’m thinking, then that’s something you should have told me.
Honesty and communication, right? Trust. That’s what we always said our relationship was built on.
And I know you never would have been okay with me hanging out with someone I’ve seen naked.
” I take a step closer, carefully avoiding the blood splattered on the ground.
“So, I’ll ask one more time. Did. you. fuck. her?”
Crestfallen, Dillon’s chin quivers just slightly, right before he drops his chin, shoulders hunching so low, it’s a wonder he doesn’t sink into a puddle of shame on the floor.
I already have my answer, but some petty part of me wants him to say it. I want him to know that this, the end of us…isn’t on me.
“Yes,” he whispers dejectedly, the one word as loud as a gunshot.
I nod and turn away, heading for the bedroom. I get all the way to the door before I call, “You said you’d leave and give me space to pack. That would be great, thanks.”
I’m not sure if he hears the finality in my voice and accepts it, or if he just knows there’s no coming back from what happened just now, but Dillon walks away.
The bathroom door clicks a moment later—a good idea, because if Dillon goes out covered in blood, Barrett will end up being arrested for assault.
My best friend follows me into the room, the silence between us heavy. “That was…unexpected,” he eventually says. “You left some details out last night.”
“Yeah, well…” I swallow thickly, pulling a suitcase out from under the bed.
“Yeah, well,” he echoes. “That’s not a complete sentence, Charlie Girl.”
I don’t answer because I’ve got nothing to say. All of this was unexpected—a blow to the solar plexus that’s still stealing my ability to breathe.
Yesterday, I was in a loving relationship with the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with.
We were building something safe and real.
And now I’m learning that I didn’t really know him.
Dillon lied from the beginning—if not to my face, then by omission.
And last night can’t be the first time his friends have used me as a verbal punching bag.
“I just…” I shake my head, turning around to open the closet. “I just want to get out of here, Barry. I’m tired, and this has just been…It’s been a lot, and being here isn’t helping.” I grab an armful of clothes, hangers and all, dumping them into the suitcase.
Barrett watches me warily, like I’m a bomb about to explode. “Okay,” he says gently. “We’ll get out of here, and then we’ll go for a drink. I think you need it.”
I send him a tight smile before directing him to get more clothes. As soon as he disappears into the closet, my eyes catch on the photo beside the bed—a selfie of me and Dillon from the day we moved in together. Our cheeks are pressed tightly together, our smiles wide and matching.
I don’t think a drink—or several—is going to fix what happened today. Honestly, the fractures that are splintering through my heart feel permanent and irreparable.
I’ll be okay. My family, the people who are supposed to love me unconditionally, have dealt far worse blows than anything I heard last night.
I survived that. I’ll survive this.
But I’m kind of sick of surviving and, more than anything, it’s breaking me apart that Dillon was the person I thought I was going to thrive with.
I thought we were solid, and it turns out, I was just trying to hold onto smoke.
Now, it’s curling through my fingers, disappearing into the wind like it was never there to begin with.
I feel it, though. The hurt lingering behind tells me it wasn’t just for nothing. But at the same time, it also feels like that pain might be the only real thing that was ever between us.
“Charlie?” Barrett prods, making me realize I’ve been standing here frozen, staring down into a half-filled suitcase, my vision blurry with tears.
I sniffle, dropping the shirt I’m holding into the case. “Yeah,” I murmur. “A drink sounds good.”